Room claims itself to be Canada’s old literary journal for and by women. Named in honor of Virginia Woolf’s statement about the need to have “a room with a lock on the door if you are to write fiction or poetry,” this journal is a space for women to share their writing.

Interestingly, after I read the journal for the first time, I went back and noticed the cover noted Room’s full title: Room: Literature, Art, and Feminism Since 1975. Even though I am a feminist, a woman, and even work at a women’s nonprofit, it wasn’t until I read the cover that I realized it was a feminist journal. Bad feminist! I didn’t even realize they only published women until I checked out the submission section on their webpage. I don’t necessarily think I am typically dense to these sort of things, but think at Room, sometimes it can be a subtler thing, and perhaps I’m also more used to reading many women.

A lot of times, feminist journals or women’s journals tend to focus specifically on “women’s issues” – feminist activism, abortion, motherhood, equal pay for equal work, etc. (I read a lot of these for my work and research.) There was a definite lack of focused attention on these areas, though the fascinating interview Helen Polychronakos does with Harsha Walia touches up her fierce and dedicated activism. I appreciated the diversity of topics and tones in Room.

While the journal is based out of Canada, and there is a strong Canadian presence in pieces, there were also stories taking place in other countries (India, United States, Poland, Pompeii), and even at various times in history.

The stories aren’t necessarily conventional in structure. Many stories had no clear beginning, middle, and end, and even left me at a loss for how to describe what exactly happened. Most would be described as nonlinear. The stories often required concentration and re-reading to understand (or attempt to understand). Impatient or casual readers, or those trying to read in the chaos of public transportation or a noisy coffee shop, might not have the state of mind to appreciate and comprehend many of the pieces.

Even pieces I really enjoyed were not the easiest reads or didn't leave me with a quick way to describe the story. “Best Practices for Time Travel” by Doretta Lau was an interesting piece with wonderful descriptions and interesting characters, but not with a straightforward plot. “Five Full-Colour Dreams of a Young Marie Curie” by Sofi Papamarko reminded me of the confusion of a dream (which is especially confusing when you try to describe it to someone after you’ve woken up) – but also, got me to reread it, enjoying it even more the second time.

The characters aren’t always sympathetic. In Rhonda Collis’s “The Swimmer’s Wake,” I disliked Lester Sharpe from the start, as he instigated a fight, to when he committed arson at the end. Marcia Walker’s “Where Are All Your Porn Words Now?” left me conflicted. From the start, I didn’t like Elliot, the husband, perhaps because I suspected he “broke the rules” of an often-referred-to-but-never-clearly-defined set of rules. Later, as his wife Sheila later breaks the rules herself and gets wildly drunk, I still found myself on her side. The rules, we infer, have something to do with a little extramarital fun.

Corinna Chong’s “The Whole Animal” ponders the ethics of eating meat, veganism (and lies about being vegan), late night screams, bison, and gunshots. Again, hard to describe, but an interesting story nonetheless. Kayal’s “Fat with Love” was my favorite story, with gorgeous language and wonderful descriptions about a powerful fat woman who was “fat with love.”

A creative nonfiction piece “You Would Make a Good Jesuit” by Sarah Xerar Murphy, employs the use of stream of consciousness and no capitalization.

The poems weren’t always the easiest to understand, but sometimes were very engaging. They were always free verse, and many included some great imagery.

Daniela Elza’s poems played with space on the page and powerful words. In “Ruins of Pompeii, or Ancestry,” Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach really captures this destroyed town, and she gave me flashbacks to my visit there nearly ten years ago. I was captivated by Mollie Coles Tonn’s “Allow Me” which played with some great word repetition and included beautiful imagery.

I appreciated the breaks of art throughout the journal. My favorite art piece was Tings Chak’s “We Didn’t Cross the Borders.” These three drawings show images of those women and children who didn’t cross the borders, but have found the borders crossing them by dropping bombs, risking drowning, or in danger of being bulldozed. Her drawings made me want to know more about the situations that she was drawing.

Many of the authors have published books, and many possess MFAs. Most of them live in Canada.

The topics and styles are quite diverse, but I’d recommend Room to those interested in nonconventional formats and styles, and those who aren’t looking for a straightforward storyline.